And Now for Something Completely Different
by unwinding fantasy
Summary: His head hurt. He didn't want to face reality. Discontinued.
1. Daydream Believer

**Title: **And Now for Something Completely Different...

**Author: **Aqua Phoenix1

**Disclaimer: **_24 _and any people or places affiliated with it are not property of the author i.e. me. Unfortunately.

**Rating: **PG (Rated for a naughty word. Likely to change in following chapters)

**Really Big A/N: **As far as I'm aware, there is nothing like this in the _24_ section of fanfiction net. In fact, I don't read much _24_ fanfiction. This thing just attacked me one day. I'll warn you in advance: it is **very AU**. This is not set in the _24 _universe. For those of you that run screaming in terror at this thought, fine. But for those of you that have an open mind, this might just be your cup of tea!

Being in the different universe my fic is, some changes have been made. The most obvious ones you'll have to get your head around is changes in age and relationship. For example, for the purposes of this story, Teri is Jack's **sister** and Kim is **in no way related to him**. Apart from this, I've tried to keep characters' personalities in check so they're not completely different to the people we know and love.

Feedback is everything to me. Please tell me what you think. I **do** accept flames (they keep me nice and toasty) but I'd prefer you had some constructive criticism. I mean, when you have to abuse the author, it doesn't say much for you, does it? However, to any flames I receive complaining about the AU-ness of the story: I will print them out and eat them. You've been given plenty of warning about **that**.

Anyway, on with the show...

* * *

Jack slammed against the tree trunk, pressing his back to the rough bark he could feel through his body-hugging sweater. He willed his breathing to slow as is shaking hands struggled with the clip of his handgun, the blackness of night doing little to aid his progress. The magazine seemed to scream when it finally clicked into place; Jack choked back the lump in his throat that threatened to suffocate him. Straining his ears, now he shifted into a squatting position, venturing a glance over his shoulder: black. Work eyes, he mentally growled, wiping away the sweat and blood that was trickling down his face, down into his mouth where he tasted copper and salt.  
  
A sharp crack not ten metres from his place made Jack stop mid-wipe, the lump in his throat now replaced with his thundering heart. With all the cautiousness of a mouse avoiding the snap of the mousetrap, the sandy-haired man brought his hand back down to help steady his weapon and again peered from his vantage point, a futile attempt to scope out his enemy's whereabouts. Jack was readjusting the belt at his waist when the bush beside him exploded as the man he had so desperately been searching for caught up with him at last. Fumbling for his weapon, Jack's mouth opened in a surprised yelp before five bullets tore into his chest, ripping through flesh as if it wasn't there at all, cut off his scream. He fell, hard, against the tree, hot blood staining the wood.  
  
Gasping with effort, Jack somehow unsheathed his standard issue hunting knife, the long blade gleaming dully in the moonlight. He knew he was on his last legs, that he was the only one that could stop this terrorist now, his knuckles were turning white. Throwing his entire body weight at his attacker, Jack plunged his knife into the other's chest. The man made no sound as the blade entered him; the blood bubbling in his mouth prevented this as he too collapsed to the ground in a writhing heap. Despite the searing fire in his chest, Jack's white teeth shone through his dirty face. He had done it. He would die a hero.  
  
The last thought he had was of his beautiful wife, Nina Myers, before he passed into eternal darkness.

* * *

'Jack.'  
  
His head hurt. He didn't want to face reality.  
  
'Jack!'  
  
This time, Jack heard the barely controlled anger in the voice and he reluctantly opened an eye. Sunlight poured in, blinding him, reawakening him to the day. Squeezing the eye shut again, he groaned before sitting up and shaking his head, his movements sluggish from sleep. He blinked a few times, testing the validity of the scene his eyes were relaying to his brain then did his best to form an apologetic expression as he stared up at the sharp man before him.  
  
'Jack Bauer, would you care to explain what you were doing just now?'  
  
What a stupid question! Jack thought, or at least that's what he believed he had done. Instead, he found his mouth uttering the words followed by a low undertone of snickers. The teacher gave them all a glare for their efforts, reducing them to silence. When his piercing haze returned to Jack, he snapped, 'What was that?' Jack muttered something inaudible, causing the man to turn beetroot. 'Then I think it's time you payed a visit to the principal.'  
  
Jack pushed his chair back with a little more force than necessary; the griding screech produced making the others cringe, and stalked down the rows of desks towards the exit. A chunk of screwed up paper whacked him in the back of the head and the room erupted in laughter. Jack paused. Didn't look over his shoulder. Kept walking.  
  
His pace quickened now and soon Jack had left behind the angry yells of, 'Sit down right now, Mr Almeida!' and the jeering faces of his classmates: 'Jack's a wimp!' Safely out the door, he then glanced back at the chaotic scene he had abandoned. When he turned back to the empty corridor, he discovered it was not so empty at all.  
  
_Crash!_  
  
Sprawled on the ground, the blonde boy massaged his sore head, which seemed to be taking more of a beating than usual today. He tried to push himself up, winced, and fell backwards onto his elbows again. When he heard a small whimper beside him, Jack knew what had happened. 'You okay?' he found himself asking, more of a reflex than anything.  
  
'I think so...'  
  
'Either you are or you aren't.'  
  
The girl he had collided with raised an eyebrow, and then recognition swarmed onto her pretty face. 'You're that Bauer guy everyone's been talking about.'  
  
'A couple of jerks are "everyone?"' though Jack scoffed, he wondered why she hadn't run screaming in terror by now. Hanging around with someone like him was bound to bring your reputation down more than a few notches. He watched as the girl smiled and shook her head, cropped blonde hair dancing around her. 'So, where were you off to in such a hurry?'  
  
Jack averted his gaze. When she saw his reluctance, she changed tack, 'I suppose you're wondering the same thing about me. I'm new, and hopelessly lost.'  
  
'I can give you directions, if you want,' Jack said and watched as her face broke into a relieved smile. 'Really? Thanks!' Then, as if she had only just remembered, 'I'm Kate.'  
  
He noted her introduction, leaning against a nearby locker. 'So... where you headed?' She snorted with suppressed laughter as she pulled a crumpled piece of paper from the pocket of her skirt. 'That's the thing. I couldn't read these timetables if my life depended on it.' Kate sighed in mock desperation while Jack fought away the smile that threatened to appear. He took the offered slip and studied it for a moment. 'You have history with Mr Mason right now,' he informed her as he passed it back. 'Better hurry. He doesn't take lateness well.'  
  
Kate babbled her thanks, and then said, 'I didn't catch your first name.'  
  
'Jack,' he supplied, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. After a moment's consideration, he decided to continue. 'So... what have they been saying?' he asked in what he hoped was a non-interested sounding tone, arms hugging his chest in the classical defensive stance.  
  
'That I should stay away from you.'  
  
This time he couldn't help but smile. 'They were right.'  
  
Kate seemed like she was tossing up between believing him or not when the door down the hallway swung open, cracking against the concrete wall as Jack's history teacher stormed from the classroom. Catching sight of him midway down the corridor, and with a girl no less, Mr Mason bellowed, 'Bauer, don't make me say it again!' Jack glanced at Kate before turning and strolling towards the principal's office; he felt he knew the way so well by now he could walk there with his eyes closed. Behind him, the _click click _of Kate's shoes resonated throughout the seemingly deserted building. A strangely pleasant sound.  
  
Jack rounded the corner and immediately skidded to a stop, his worn trainers squeaking loudly on the freshly cleaned floor. Without any warning, the dark-haired boy in front of him gulped down the last of his drink and hurled the empty bottle at Jack. It came to a sickening crash at Jack's feet, a stray shard catching him just above the eye. Warm liquid spilt onto his face. The remnants of alcohol made his cut burn.  
  
Hector grinned at him, pushing back the sleeves of his dirtied white shirt. 'Hey, Jack.' The sound of his name in Salazar's mouth made Jack want to throw up but he managed to stay silent.  
  
'Why don't you just clear out now before I fuck you up again.' It was hardly a question. Hector didn't ask, he demanded. Jack shifted his balance slightly, bracing himself for the punch he knew was coming. To make matters worse, if Hector was there, Saunders wasn't far behind. Jack swallowed and hoped that by doing so he hadn't given his enemy the satisfaction of knowing he was nervous.  
  
The slightly taller boy took one menacing step forwards. 'Did you hear me, Bauer?' Jack's only response was the clenching of his jaw. This only served to further irritate the Mexican, who made to rush Jack but was cut off by a strong voice:  
  
'Mr Salazar.'  
  
If it had been at any other moment, Jack would have laughed: the look on Hector's face was worth more than all the money in the world. Jack watched coolly as the other boy turned to face the headmaster, the deer-caught-in- headlights expression plastered all over his ugly mug. Staring down at Jack's antagonist, Principal Palmer tossed his head in a, "Clear out. Now," gesture that sent Salazar scurrying down the corridor. As he strode by he shot Jack a venomous glare that promised they'd finish this later.  
  
Once the older boy had vanished around the corner, Jack wordlessly, pushed his way into the principal's office, collapsed into one of the leather chairs and finally exhaled. He hadn't even realised he'd been holding his breath. As the door clicked shut, Principal Palmer cut the silence with his deep voice, 'So, would you mind telling me what's going on?' As he spoke, he sidestepped his large desk and sank into a chair of his own. When Jack didn't answer, Palmer's poker face cracked. 'It's the third time this week, Jack,' he sighed.  
  
'I know, sir. I'm sorry.' He didn't know if it was a lie anymore. Palmer had looked out for him since day one and Jack hadn't even attempted to repay the favour. Knowing this made Jack feel as if someone was shoving a vacuum cleaner down his throat and was trying to suck his stomach out. Palmer was the last person in the world he wanted to disappoint.  
  
The dark-skinned man's gaze remained fixed on Jack as if he was unsatisfied with that answer. Jack didn't blame him. 'Mason sent me here,' he eventually admitted.  
  
The principal's hands came crashing down on the desk, causing the sandy- headed boy to jump. 'The third time!' he reiterated. From fear of being back into a corner, Jack couldn't help but retort with a yell of his own, 'What do you expect me to do!' His eyes stung as sweat and blood crept into them. Jack angrily swiped it away.  
  
'Now I know you have some problems, but you have to appreciate the sacrifices I make to secure your place here.' He sounded calmer now, more like his usual self. 'Do you understand?'  
  
'Yes, sir.' What other answer could he give?  
  
The bell sounded and Palmer dismissed him with a wave of his hand. The last thing Jack saw before he closed the door was the principal hunched over his desk, head in hands, looking as if he hadn't slept in well over a year.

* * *

Jack's locker, no. 2448, was stuck right in the middle of the others. Every trip there was a battle in its own: shoving and being shoved in turn is an unwritten law of college life. Being shorter than half the students didn't help matters either. Dodging a stray elbow, Jack squeezed between his two neighbours where he struggled with his combination. When he threw open the door a bit too hard he heard the surprised squeal of what was meant to be Chase Edmunds. Brow furrowed, Jack peered around the other side.  
  
'Hi again.'  
  
Jack couldn't help but stare dumbly at her. What the hell had happened to Chase?  
  
'It's Kate, remember?' the new girl offered, obviously mistaking his confusedness for forgetfulness. Collecting his thoughts along with his wallet, Jack voiced his question, 'What happened to Chase?'  
  
'That guy with the shaved head? He asked if he could switch lockers with me. Something about a Tim or Kim.'  
  
Jack shrugged nonchalantly. Chase and Kim had hung around together since Year 7. It really was no surprise they wanted to be closer to each other. Jack often wondered if they were more than just friends. A poke brought Jack out of his reverie. 'Wanna go grab some lunch? I need directions to the cafeteria anyway.' The slight waver in her voice spoke volumes. Though he knew what it felt like to be the new kid, Jack was still surprised by the suggestion. He paused a little longer than he should have before giving her the honest answer. 'I'm not the most popular guy around here. You'd do better with them,' he pointed in the general direction of Chase, who was talking energetically with two other girls. Before she could say anything, Jack had left. He always ate alone, anyway. 


	2. Living on a Prayer

**Title: **And Now for Something Completely Different...

**Author: **Aqua Phoenix1

**Disclaimer:** _24_ and any people or places affiliated with it are not property of the author i.e. me. Unfortunately.

**Rating: **PG (Rated for a naughty words. Likely to change in following chapters)

**A/N: **When I sat down to write this chapter, I knew exactly what was going to happen. Exactly. And I thought I would do a pretty good job of it, too. The problem came when writing in the POV of one Stephen Saunders.

As seen on _24_ as the brilliant mastermind behind the entire terrorist plot - hell, without a Stephen Saunders, Season 3 wouldn't even exist! - this man had me utterly glued to the screen. In short, he's an enigma (I'm such a sucker for enigmas! Take Agent Smith from _The Matrix _and Javert from _Les Miserables_ for instance.) Apart from a few snippets of background information and some shots of him in "business mode," we don't learn much about Stephen Saunders the **man**. When creating his teenage character, I took what I did know about him from _24_ and tried to incorporate all the typical teenage boy qualities/emotions/thoughts. This turned out to be a more challenging task then I had first imagined, although I must admit I'm happy with the results.

Another key idea I focused on was the fact that in the series, Jack describes Saunders as a good person; he doesn't understand what caused Stephen to undergo such a drastic change in his morals. So here, I've maintained Stephen's "goodness" to some degree. But that's just my thoughts. Please feel free to leave me a review and tell me what you think... and what you would like to see in this story.

On a side note, there was one particular proper noun in this chapter that was very hard for me to type. You know how some characters are just **meant** to be referred to in a certain way? (For any _Les Mis_ fans out there, it'd be like calling Valjean "Jean".) Blame Nina.

So without any further ado...

* * *

Jack, slumped against the wall of some nondescript alley, gasping for air. Just the way it should be, sneered Stephen. Whatever Hector gave that deceitful son of a bitch he deserved. At least, that's what he kept telling himself. Damn his rational brain, telling him how over it he should be. 

'Jack, Jack, Jack,' Hector tutted, shaking his head in false disappointment. 'How many times do I have to tell you?' For the briefest second, fear flashed in Jack's eyes as Hector stalked towards him. Despite himself, Stephen felt a pang of regret. Hector sure had some balls doing that: if Jack even remotely cared, the Mexican would be on his back by now. Stephen had experienced first hand what Jack was capable of.

'Don't. Fuck. With. Me.' Each successive word saw another kick connect with the blonde's chest. Stephen had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes at the mention of his friend's favourite word. No wonder Hector couldn't get a proper girlfriend. He knew he was frowning but he couldn't control that anymore, just like he couldn't help running a hand through his hair as Jack finally groaned – the only sound Hector had ever managed to wrench from him. It was as if they had finally broken the younger boy, like he had given up at last. He heard more than saw Jack crumple up in agony as another kick from Hector sent a garbage can crashing onto the blonde, lumpy yoghurt the colour of unripe bananas splattering everywhere, painting the broken concrete.

'You like that?' the Mexican leered, kneeling so he was eye level with the other boy. Jack looked past him, his vacant gaze finding Stephen's. Trying not to think about it, the older boy shook his head once and made to leave. It was useless to try and stop Hector when he was like this. Maybe with Tony's help, but definitely not on his own. And he had no desire to see Hector go crazy on Jack two times in as many days.

As he turned, Stephen nearly collided with Nina who, he noted with a little irritation, had managed to creep up on him without him knowing it. The coy smile that played on her lips excused her lack of words as she pulled him down to get a glimpse of the show taking place behind him; he obliged and bent slightly to accommodate her smaller frame. 'You weren't meant to see this,' he took the opportunity to whisper in her ear. The feathery breath of air on his neck told him she was laughing as she replied, 'You think I don't know what you boys get up to?'

Hector cleared his throat and the two broke apart. Stephen restrained from laughing as his friend seemed to shrivel under Nina's antipathetic glare. 'What should I do with Bauer,' he asked in hushed tones, making certain his back was facing the other three people that had tagged along with Nina.

Jack, or at least what Stephen could see of him from underneath the trash, was quite the actor: he usually decided to play dead fish after Hector had messed with him for a while. It was a technique that had developed over the past year or so. The first time, Hector had help in the form of Tony and himself, but that had been a personal matter. Stephen would always maintain that Jack had had that one coming to him. That time Jack had fought back, fought like some satanic spirit had possessed him, and it was Bauer that had came off the best of the four. But the next time, Jack had lost some of his spark. By the fifth time he had resorted to reasoning, but while that may have had an affect on Stephen, there wasn't much anyone could talk Hector out of. The eighth time, Palmer had saved Jack's life. After the twelfth or thirteenth time he had stopped talking – and moving – altogether.

Since then, Stephen had found that whenever he was around Jack his usually acerbic, often witty tongue felt like a ton of bricks in his mouth. As far as he could see, he had gotten his revenge and there was no point in further tormenting the seventeen-year-old, even if he had caused him a lot of trouble – even Tony was bored with it by now. Stephen wasn't a bad person by nature and to be truthful, he could barely stand to watch anymore. Though Jack didn't have a clue. At least, for pride's sake, he hoped not.

Then again, it was amusing to watch the smaller boy pull the wool over Hector's eyes time after time.

'Any more and he'll be dead,' Stephen settled on commenting dryly, forcing himself to breathe despite the overpowering stench. 'Then you'll have to find a new playmate.'

Hector snorted, 'I get all the entertainment I need.'

Nina had brought along the usual couple, Chase and Kim, but aside from them an unfamiliar girl stood at the open end of the alley looking very lost. Stephen watched her fumbling with a bottle of water she had pulled from her backpack. 'Who's the new girl?' he questioned once he was certain she wasn't just some nobody whose name had momentarily eluded him. Nina waved the other girl over. He tried to turn his seemingly incurable frown into a smile of sorts as Nina introduced her as Kate Warner. He felt Nina's arm wrap around him as he said, 'Nice to meet you.'

'I thought Kate could come to the party tonight. It would be the perfect way for her to meet everyone here.' Nina actually didn't seem all that enthusiastic about the idea. He had an inkling that Kim had put her up to it. Kim was always like that, being too nice to people she hardly knew, inviting them along when it wasn't her call to make. In this case though, Stephen was willing to forgive her. 'Kate's from the Big Apple,' Chase informed him. 'You know, I've always wanted to go there.' Stephen gave him a warning glare, effectively putting an end to that topic of conversation. Kim shot her boyfriend – were they together again? – a questioning look but he didn't meet her eyes.

After observing Kate's private battle with the lid of her water bottle, Stephen eventually offered his assistance: 'May I?' She smiled at the unexpected proposal, clearly surprised he was even bothering with her. She seemed to have ten times more teeth than normal. And they were incredibly white too, like vanilla ice cream.

Ice cream? Stephen mentally slapped himself.

'Thanks. I've always had more success with Coke,' she tried to lighten the mood as she handed it over. If looks could kill, he was sure he would be dead by now: he could practically feel Nina's eyes eating into his head as he accepted Kate's drink. A sidelong glance revealed his girlfriend's smile was strained and she took the lapse in conversation as an opportunity to spell out their relationship with a little more detail than was required. The long-winded explanation found Stephen intensely studying a spot of electric blue graffiti on the dirty brick wall. Maybe he was losing his touch. Or maybe he just had a soft spot for blondes.

'We better get going. Got lots of stuff to plan for tonight,' Nina fished the keys out of his pocket before a sharp pinch _there _brought everything flooding back. Biting down on his tongue so hard that it bled, Stephen passed the now-open bottle back to Kate with deliberate slowness, her nervous gaze flicking between Nina and himself. Had he tuned out that much? No wonder Nina had managed to sneak up on him before: he was going insane. It all made perfect sense.

'Steve?' It was more of a demand, really. He knew Nina knew he hated the abbreviation. The pet name she had whipped up for him the night she drank one too many Bicardis, got into an argument with him and ended up at Jack's place. That thought out Stephen back in a foul mood. He silently began the walk to his car. Behind him, he heard Kate mention his and Jack's names, and Chase's wise reply of, 'Don't get involved in something you can't understand.'

* * *

Jack wasn't sure if he believed in God but he was praying to Him nonetheless. Praying that Nina hadn't seen him buried beneath that mountain of garbage, chewing on used bubblegum and yesterday's dinner. Damn the Salazars, Jack cursed as he threw his tennis ball at the wall, watching the cloud of plaster and dust appear upon impact, crumbling to the floor. His body felt like it was anchored to the bed as he reclaimed the worn thing; his feet were so heavy he wondered if he'd ever walk again, yet he knew the answer. Maybe it was the knowing that made him feel this way, like a cocktail of emotions. 

Jack picked a stray piece of banana peel from his hair before turning to stare out the window. Through the dirty glass, the usual beauty of the stars was hazy, distorted. If there was anything to be happy about, it was that Salazar would be graduating at the end of the year. The thought wasn't as uplifting as Jack had hoped it would be; it only reminded him that he should be graduating also instead of being stuck in Year 11 thanks to events beyond his control. But Jack could never hate Teri. Not even if that meant being Salazar's lapdog for the rest of his life.

Realising he would never be able to see anything clearly through that window, Jack contented himself with flopping back onto his bed. It squeaked in noisy protest, hard springs digging into his back through the pancake- thin mattress. He probably should take a shower but it wasn't like he had any special plans.

He would have stayed like that for the rest of the night if his phone hadn't rang. _His_ phone? Jack couldn't believe his ears. Lazily turning his head to the side revealed that it definitely was his mobile. For a while he remained staring at the thing as if it was a sheep with two heads. It continued to belt out Bon Jovi's _Living on a Prayer _from its place at his bedside table. Who'd be calling him at this hour? Heck, who'd be calling him at any hour! Curiosity getting the better of him, Jack took a deep breath than seized the phone, knocking over his alarm clock in the process, and accepted the call, 'Hello?'

'Jack?' His clock screamed mercilessly. Jack blindly kicked it off, grasping the phone tighter as if that would help him hear the voice on the other end.

'Jack, is that you?'

He knew who it was the moment she opened her big mouth but he still couldn't believe it. At the sound of her voice, Jack sat up a little too quickly and had to wait for the blood to stop pounding in his temples. 'Sherry, how'd you get my number?' he eventually asked, picturing the dark- skinned woman raising a skinny eyebrow in response.

'What do you think, Jack?' When he didn't say anything, her sigh travelled through the phone line as she elaborated, 'You were friends with Stephen once, remember?'

Jack went rigid at the sound of Saunders' name. He wouldn't be surprised if the guy had burned his phone number along with anything else affiliated with him, but in this case he was willing to vouch Sherry had found it on her own. He felt like hanging up. What he said was, 'You've done nothing but ask questions the moment I answered. It's time you told me what this is about.'

Seemingly unperturbed by the bite in his rough voice, Sherry continued. 'It's about Chloe. She's after a date for the party tonight.'

'And I was the best candidate?' Jack asked, incredulous. Even though Chloe was not the kind of person you wanted to be seen in public with, Jack was sure this had to be a different kind of trick. 'Sherry, I think you've gotten rusty in your old age,' he half-laughed, not afraid to let her know how much he understood about her seemingly innocent request. That woman was always up to something and if Jack didn't know better, this time she just wanted to see a good fight. What she'd get would be more like an execution: Saunders would kill him if he showed up at his party.

'You know what'll happen if I go,' he told her, deadpan, as he leant over to turn on the radio.

'Hector knows about it. Do you think he'd do anything to disappoint me?' Sherry's voice crackled. Jack digested this information as he adjusted the volume before collapsing back onto his bed. When he was certain it was safe he asked, 'And Saunders?'

'He wouldn't want to mess up his own party. Jack, Chloe's desperate.' The last part was a plead, the offensive of it barely registering in his mind. 'Nina'll be there,' she added teasingly, although it was hard to tell if she was mocking him or the other girl.

Jack was still trying to make a decision when he heard the front door slam and the sounds of his stepfather stumbling inside. The slurred voice yelled something undecipherable as what Jack imagined was his mother's favourite vase smashed onto the poorly tiled floor. The radio hummed softly in the background.

'What time?'

'Nine. Need a ride?'

Disregarding the fact that he was signing his own death warrant, Jack supplied her with the answer she wanted to hear, '...Yeah.'

'Great. I'll pick you up in ten.' The phone clicked off before Jack could negotiate a more suitable time. He picked up the alarm clock from where he had booted it halfway across the room and nearly had a cardiac arrest when he saw the readout: 8:27.

'Damn...' he muttered before going to take that shower.

* * *

Kate felt completely out of place. Her first mistake had been agreeing to come to this party in the first place – she had no idea why but every time she turned around she'd find that Nina woman staring daggers at her. And there weren't many names she could put to faces either, though she supposed that was to be expected. Kate had always been a bit on the shy side. Now that she had left the security of her friends behind in NYC, she felt more vulnerable than ever. 

Her second mistake had been wearing a strapless dress. She felt like she was hitching it up every second or two and nearly every guy she talked to wound up staring lecherously at her chest. Not that there was much to stare at, Kate thought bitterly. Even at age seventeen she had the appearance of a twelve-year-old who had just started growing hair in funny places. At least, that's how Kate felt. If there was anything good about moving houses, it was that she had left behind those bitchy girls from her tennis club. If she was going to live here, she might as well make the best of it, Kate resolved as she scooted to the other side of the couch so as to be closer to the inviting warmth of the fireplace. Hopefully, once this party really got going it would warm up a bit. This house – Stephen's house, she corrected – was incredibly large, much bigger than the cramped apartment she had called home her entire life. Back in New York.

She watched with mild interest as a group of badly dressed guys carted in what looked to be slabs of beer and God-knew what else, while Stephen exchanged words with a particularly shady character. He was at least a head shorter than Kate's new friend but the impressive words he kept spouting in his snobby British accent made her giggle. When he turned his eyes on her, Kate quickly swallowed her amusement and became absorbed in a painting on a crimson wall.

The pair began approaching – had they seen? – and the blonde now knew for certain that this had been a bad idea. She was just wondering what the most convincing moment would be for her to look up, surprised at the unexpected company, and smile when both men seated themselves on the couch opposite her.

'...just as long as I get my money,' Snobby was finishing, an air of arrogance about him. Stephen looked as if he was chewing on a lemon as he replied, 'You'll get your money when my guest are satisfied with the products.'

They seemed to exchange silent words as they both turned their eyes on Kate. Snobby's became thin slits as he studied her across the coffee table, then glanced back at the dark-headed man beside him, eyebrows arched in what Kate took to be as a "What is she doing here?" expression. As if on cue, Hector chose that moment to break in. He was halfway between power- walking and jogging as he made his approach. When he was close enough, Kate saw his face was strained and his mouth was set in a deep frown. He stopped in front of the other males like he was waiting for permission to speak.

'What is it, man?' though Stephen snapped, gratefulness shone in his eyes; he obviously wasn't willing to explain Kate's presence. Hector scratched at an old scar on his neck in what Kate took to be a nervous gesture before deciding to take the plunge. 'Amador, one of your goons has made off with the truck.'

'Is the product unloaded?' Stephen didn't miss a beat. If possible, Hector looked even more worried as he gave a muttered, 'No,' and took off before he had to suffer the joint agitation of Saunders and Amador, who were now locked in some kind of staring competition. Eventually, Stephen blinked but it was Snobby who looked away.

'This is your mess, Michael. Fix it.' He had an odd sort of stiffness in his step as he walked away but Kate supposed she'd also be upset if some business deal of hers went loopy. She tried unsuccessfully to ignore the pathetic figure of Snobby – Michael Amador – who had pulled out a mobile and was dialling numbers furiously as if his life depended on it. He was so adept at it that Kate couldn't tell when one conversation finished and the next began. Just listening to him made her feel dizzy. Sighing, the girl checked her watch, 9:04, then, with a little more enthusiasm, leapt up to see if she could find herself something to drink.

* * *

Nina saw the way he looked at her, and more infuriatingly, the way she looked at him. From the moment she had met her, Nina had knew Kate Warner was going to cause problems. The girl from NYC had achieved the difficult task of being tall and skinny but without looking bony or awkward in her teenage body, and she had the curves in all the right places. Her hair was perfect too: golden locks framing her delicate face, making her startling blue eyes all the more apparent. After what she and Sherry had organised, Kate Warner would be out of LA by the morning. That was granted Sherry had held up her end of the bargain. Nina smiled to herself before downing another glass of champagne. The fruity taste was nice but it was no where near hard enough, Nina concluded. Leaving her glass with Tony, she went searching for some brandy. 

When Nina arrived at the kitchen she found Kate rummaging through the cupboards as if she owned the place. If she had heard Nina approach, she made no sign and for a moment Nina was tempted to push that pretty little head of Kate's down the incinerator. Instead, she murmured a single word: 'Lost?'

Kate, who had been kneeling to stick her head into a cupboard, abruptly sprung up, panic-stricken face quickly rearranging itself into something resembling enjoyment. 'Oh. I was just looking for a drink...' she said. Any softer and it would have been a whisper.

Did you try the fridge? Nina felt like scoffing as she repressed a disgusted snort. 'What takes you fancy?' she asked, at the same time questioning whether Kate had ever seen an alcoholic beverage in her life.

'Um, water will be fine,' the slightly taller girl confirmed her suspicion. 'I'll fix you something nice,' Nina offered, sparing the blonde some embarrassment – there was plenty of that to come anyway. She delved into the refrigerator and pulled out a couple of large bottles, wondering what to mix with what. When she shut the fridge door, Nina noticed a pamphlet depicting various cocktails was pinned on it. Smiling to herself, Nina plucked it off and began scouring the book for the most alcoholic drink it had to offer.

She'd have some fun tonight.


	3. Guys Just Wanna Have Fun

**Title: **And Now for Something Completely Different...

**Author: **Aqua Phoenix1

**Disclaimer: **_24_ and any people or places affiliated with it are not property of the author i.e. me. Unfortunately.

**Rating: **PG (Rated for language and mild violence) 

**A/N: **Many thanks to all reviewers. I'm glad my fic has been so well-accepted, and that you're enjoying it. A lot of authors say they write purely for themselves. I'm not one of them; I write for the enjoyment of others as well as for fun. In other words, if it wasn't for you wonderful people I wouldn't have continued this, so thankyou for supporting me. 

As always, feel free to donate ideas - I will seriously consider each and every one of them, no matter how silly you may think it sounds. And chapter titles. I'm in need of some snazzy titles. 

More side notes: Nina is incredibly fun to write. She's just so evil! 

* * *

Unwilling to see his tumbledown house become the topic of school gossip for the next month, Jack decided to wait for Sherry at the corner of his street, Collins, and Isabella, opposite the service station. The streetlight he stood under, one of few that hadn't had its globe smashed by some wise ass, was the only speck of light for what seemed like miles, save the shop over the road; he chose to stand there in case Sherry missed him in the dark. Night air that was unusually chilly for springtime was constantly nipping at his fingers, making him wish he had brought his jacket; a thought that hadn't crossed his mind in the relative warmth of his home. 

Dirty denim jeans weren't the most sensible choice in clothing but they were comfortable, as was the black and blue shirt he wore; he wondered if his face'd match his shirt by the end of this. Thanks to Sherry, it was all he could do to take a quick shower and throw on whatever happened to be lying around; he hadn't had time to do a Kim and go through a gruelling six hour buy-a-different-outfit-and-hope-nobody-else-wears-the-same-thing-as-you process. Folding his arms across his chest, Jack shuddered, from cold or fear he didn't know, and checked his watch. The pale green readout blinked reassuringly.

Twin beams of light signified his ride had come at last. A red dodge viper roared round the corner, coming to an alarmingly fast stop next to him, tyres screeching. The window wound down; Chase's hair-free head poked out, 'Hey.'  
  
In the passenger seat beside him, Kim finished applying strawberry lipstick, shoving the stick in her abnormally tiny handbag. When she saw Jack she broke into a happy grin. 'You comin'?' she chirped, waving him inside. He took one final look down the road, back at his house with the broken fence. It would be so easy to go back now, even if it was punking out. But a promise is a promise, Jack confessed, even if it was made to Sherry. Besides, this might be his only chance to be reinstated into society.  
  
Grasping the handle firmly, he eased open the door and sidled into the vehicle. Chloe was lounging inside, entertaining herself with a glass of wine; the fruity aroma was poisoning the air. Her mouth formed a thin line when she registered the other adolescent's presence, a frown that reminded Jack of spaghetti. 'Listen. I don't want to be here any more than you. Just make sure you don't embarrass us both.' Chloe's flat voice left much to be desired, although Jack supposed the remark was mild by her standards and he wisely chose not to make any smart Alec comments. No good getting into an argument with the people he had to put up with for the rest of the night.  
  
'What Chloe meant was we're happy to have you with us,' Chase pre-empted the verbal battle. Even though it was unnecessary, Jack appreciated the other boy's concern. Always good to know people are on your side. Thoroughly ignoring Chloe, Jack asked, 'Where's Sherry?' as he pulled on his stubborn seatbelt before answering his own question, 'Hector?'  
  
Through the rear vision mirror, Jack saw Kim's head bob up and down. 'You know what they're like,' she replied as Chase flicked through his CD collection, shoved one in at random and resumed his control of the car. A lurch and they were screaming down the street.  
  
Chase took the next corner at an insane speed; Jack felt for sure he'd roll the car. The pair in the front whooped like wild things as clown nose red liquid went splashing over the lip of Chloe's glass, making the girl curse in an unladylike fashion. 'Take a chill pill!' Kim told her, squealing with delight as they turned another corner on two wheels. More wine spilt onto Chloe's dress, eliciting a small whimper from her which soon turned into an outraged yell. 'That's it! You've completely ruined my outfit!'  
  
'We're just hav-'  
  
'Having fun? I've put up with your "fun" for long enough. Stop this thing right now!' The point was emphasised by a slap on Chase's shoulder. He seemed more than willing to oblige, pulling over immediately as he turned the music off. Chloe stormed out, slamming the door behind her, still muttering about what kind of idiot calls that fun. Chase watched her progress in the mirror and, once sure she was gone for good, allowed himself a victorious grin. 'Finally! I was wondering how long it'd take before she lost it!' Kim was giggling like a new admission to the asylum. Falling back into his seat, Jack breathed out. He hadn't even realised he'd been holding it.  
  
Chase watched him, huge grin seemingly a permanent resident of his face. 'Hope we didn't scare you.' The blonde shook his head and added in an analytical tone, 'But my date's gone AWOL,' as he quickly moved to occupy the free space left by Chloe's departure; at least he could breathe freely now. He could hear the smile in Kim's voice as she said, 'I'm sure we'll find someone for you.'  
  
The engine sprung to life and they were off again. Jack watched the city he hated rush by, staring at nothing in particular as he wondered what he had gotten himself into.  
  
Thanks to Chase's... unique driving, fifteen minutes later the trio rolled up at the party. Through his now open window, Jack glanced half-heartedly at the impressive residence; there were more useful ways to spend money and if Jack had half as much as Saunders he'd be out of this place in an instant. Music met his ears, the beat making the entire car vibrate, too loose windscreen wipers rattled in time with the _thump thump _of the base guitar. Shutting off the engine, Chase stepped out, half-danced his way to the other side of the car and opened the door for Kim, who laughed at his antics and told him he was pathetic. Chase feigned indignation, earning himself a bear hug for his efforts. Together, they made their way up the garden path and Jack, not wanting to be left to contend with the questioning whispers alone, sprung out and tailed them.

* * *

He was quite relaxed for once, practically snoozing on the black leather lounge suite as he toyed with the beer in his other hand. Not able to resist much longer, he downed the remaining liquid in two gulps. Tony liked alcohol; it freed his usual constraints, making things easier to say or do... things that'd normally take three weeks for him to work up the courage to go through with. But that was all beer was. Tony didn't go overboard; he wasn't like Hector, who got drunk every second day. It was no surprise the guy only had Sherry, really.  
  
Stretching like a large cat, Tony watched some girls dive into the pool outside. How they could stand the cold was beyond him; they must have steel skin or something. At least that one seemed normal, he noted when he caught sight of the girl sitting across from him for the first time. Long curly locks, rich coffee, flowed innocently down her back, accentuating her fine facial features; her almond eyes reflected inner strength. How could he have missed that, he wondered as she sighed, perhaps out of boredom, and glanced at her watch. Her pretty face rearranged itself into a scowl when she saw how late (early?) it was. Was she expecting someone? Only one way to find out.  
  
'Hey.'  
  
The girl looked up, startled, even though she tried not to show it. Tony ran a hand over his face and tried again, 'Having fun?'  
  
She seemed to regard him suspiciously, trying to suss out his true intentions. Eventually, she decided to respond. 'It's nice here, not like last time,' she answered in a voice that was gentle and firm at the same time. Tony smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture, stretching again as he replied, 'I think I know the one you mean. Don't think we'll have a repeat performance though.' Then noticing the empty glass in front of her: 'Drink?'  
  
Back on guard, the girl answered, 'No thanks. I'm not that thirsty.' Fair enough, Tony nodded. You want to be like that, fine, but you're not getting rid of me that easy. Picking himself off the couch, he crossed the empty space and plonked down beside her. 'I'm Tony.' God, that must be the alcohol talking. He was never this straightforward.  
  
'Michelle.' After an awkward pause, she went on, 'To be honest, I was a bit nervous about coming here. And none of my friends have shown up...'  
  
Encouraged by this display of friendliness, he said, 'Say, do you wanna go check out the music collection? I can't stand this song.' Michelle considered the offer but before she could respond, Tony glimpsed a familiar figure enter the room. 'Ah, I'm really sorry, but could you excuse me?'  
  
What the hell was Jack doing here? Tony had to stop himself from running over, instead settling on a brisk walk, hoping he could talk some sense into his sort of friend, but he was too late: Hector had caught sight of the blonde and was already striding over. Even from where he was, Tony could hear the harsh words, 'What are you doing here, Jack? I thought I told you to keep out of my way,' as Hector shoved the slighter boy. Chase was saying something but Hector was hearing none of it; he pushed Jack again, harder this time, forcing him towards the open door, almost yelling now. Taking a deep breath to banish his restless nerves, Tony cut in, 'Jack. Glad you could make it.'  
  
Hector's eyes darted towards him, 'You invited him?' Trying to appear unconcerned, Tony shrugged. 'Well, he didn't come here on his own,' he nodded at Chase and Kim, who were both looking a little lost. Chase pushed her away, silently telling her to clear off before war broke out.  
  
'I don't care who invited him. _I_ don't want him here!' Voices too loud for normal conversation were drawing a few quizzical glances from other party guests. Jack wasn't paying attention. Dammit, Jack, just smack him one, Tony growled mentally. At least then he might think twice about it.  
  
'You hear me, Bauer?'  
  
Silence.  
  
'I'm telling you, Bauer, you answer me when I'm speaking to you!' Jack was pushing him over the edge without even doing anything, Tony realised before Hector lunged at the sandy-haired boy. Acting on instinct, Tony made to restrain him; Chase had the same idea and the two both clutched at a struggling Hector, fancy sculpture toppled over, hitting the floor, shattering into odd-shaped shards. 'Hector!' Stephen's voice bellowed across the room as the teen threw a jaw-breaking punch at Chase, who hit the ground with an 'Oof,' narrowly missing the coffee table. Not listening, Hector made to do the same to Tony; Tony ducked just in time, air whipping through his hair as he grabbed his antagonist and tackled him to the floor. He was bigger but Hector had the experience; a hard kick caught Tony in the stomach, leaving him gasping for oxygen.  
  
_Click._  
  
Halfway between standing and kneeling, Hector froze as he felt cool metal press against his temple. At the same time as Nina screamed, 'What are you doing!' Amador yelled, 'What part about "use only in emergencies" don't you understand!'  
  
'Hector. Don't push me.' Stephen's voice was low and dangerous.  
  
Eyes now wide with fear, Hector tried to reason, though negotiation clearly wasn't his forte, 'You know I'm only looking out for you, Stephen!'  
  
'Get out.'  
  
As the gun was removed from his head, Hector looked from Stephen to Nina to Jack, face drenched in angry sweat. 'You make a mistake,' he warned as he turned to leave. He sprayed Jack with his putrid saliva and shoved past him; Jack blinked once, then nonchalantly wiped it off with the back of his hand as Stephen regarded him, tucking away the weapon. The group were still staring at one another, unsure what was appropriate to do next, when Kate stumbled over, her wonky walk was halted many times thanks to collisions with various furniture. She came to an abrupt stop, swaying in a manner that made her look as if she'd faint then all at once she threw up on Amador's shoes. Tony suppressed laughter – that made his stomach hurt even more – as the older man's face scrunched up in a repulsed manner. Whining about Italian leather, he stalked off to clean himself up; a couple of girls ran over, giggling drunkenly as they helped Kate into a chair. Jack and Stephen exchanged a glance that was a strange concoction of amusement and concern, and for a moment they were friends again.  
  
'Enjoy the party,' the host quipped before Nina dragged him away.  
  
Jack was looking down at the tired Tony, wordless gratitude plain on his face. He offered his hand, which Tony accepted without thought. As he was hoisted to his feet, the dark- headed teen murmured, 'The hell do you think you're doing here, Jack?' in a tone that lacked its usual bite.  
  
'Sherry asked me, said Chloe needed a date. But you can see that didn't work out...' he gestured towards Chase and Kim, who were absorbed in an assortment of food stacked on the long dining table, 'Thanks to these guys.' Tony arched an eyebrow but didn't say anything. He could guess what had happened; Chloe didn't take jokes lightly. And if you didn't like having "fun," Chase and Kim weren't the kind of people you wanted to be near. Tony knew from experience. 

He had to repress a snort as Chase attempted to stuff an entire slice of pizza into his wide mouth and ended up with tomato paste smeared all over his lips. Instead, he massaged his aching arm, which must've somehow been twisted during the struggle.

'I don't get it, Jack. Why do you let him push you around like that? You could've helped, you know.'

'Like the last time I helped?' Jack had lost none of his wryness.

'Last time was an accident, and you still helped me.'

This time. Jack at least looked like he was considering what Tony said. This spurred him on some more. 'I know what you think, and it's not true. No one hates you, Jack. Hector doesn't count. He's just a loose cannon waiting to fire.' Again with that I-don't-give-a-damn shrug. 'Maybe.'

You need to relearn how to accept a friend, Tony thought. What he said was, 'I'll see you around…' and went off to find the girl he had left hanging.


	4. Unexpected Visitor, Memories Relived

**Title: **And Now for Something Completely Different...

**Author: **Aqua Phoenix1

**Disclaimer:** _24_ and any people or places affiliated with it are not property of the author i.e. me. Unfortunately.

**Rating: **PG-13

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone for all the positive feedback and great ideas. As always, I'm open to more suggetions. Also, if some people are still confused: Sherry isn't married to Palmer (though it would be strange if they were...) and Jane is Stephen's sister.

Hope this lives up to expectations.

* * *

The door slammed, loud sound of wood upon wood seeming to echo around the large bedroom. In the same moment, she whirled to face what was probably the only person in the world she affiliated the word "trust" with. Her closest confidant and partner. The stranger with a weapon.

'What were you thinking!' Leaning against the door, Nina shifted into her customary "don't-you-play-dumb-with-me" stance. Her hands curled into balls in a useless attempt to stead the shaking of her fingers, her long painted nails digging into flesh til she felt for sure she'd draw blood. This new development, she didn't like it. She was a bitch, not the mistress of some crime lord.

A sigh. 'It's only for protection.'

'And why doesn't that reassure me?'

He just looked at her, perhaps all words had left him, maybe he just couldn't be bothered dealing with her. She watched him pour himself another drink; caramel fluid flowed from the rectangular bottle, running too fast to be honey. A bit slipped onto the glass tabletop, spreading closer and closer to the edge until it settled into a broken trickle, drizzling miserably onto crimson carpet. 'You're drunk,' she observed, hoping to sound less surprised than he expected. Stephen never got drunk; he hated losing control. Why now?

He collapsed onto the couch in a manner completely contrary to his nature, sinking into sinfully soft pillows as he clutched at the glass with one hand. His free hand cradled his head and his eyes squeezed shut. No, not drunk. Tense.

Losing all conviction, Nina ended up beside him. 'What are you playing at?' It may have been genuine concern in her voice. She wasn't sure.

'It's only for a week,' he muttered, more to himself. 'Michael said it will be gone by then.'

Nina's eyes widened a little. Now this _was_ a surprise. 'It? What "it"?'

When he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye, Nina knew exactly what was happening. Still denying it with a shake of her head, she stood up again, 'No. No, Stephen, tell me you aren't doing him a "favour."'

'A week, Nina.'

She'd kill Michael.

'I told you not to get involved with him!' It was a little louder than she had meant; suddenly on edge, her head whipped around guiltily as Stephen hushed her. Fire that refused to be extinguished urged her on; she snatched the glass from his white-knuckled hand and abruptly smashed it against the wall, all caution disappearing as quickly as it had arrived. The brown ooze was striking on the mahogany paint. Stephen blinked dazedly, his stare finding the broken glass, and recognition flooded back onto his face.

She had to understand. His financial situation, the stepfather that had left his mother alone to support two children, and the mother who couldn't tell the difference between a blue chip and a bond, and the banks that were too greedy for their own good, they'd get what was coming to them. 'They're after the house as well,' he said in a voice that didn't belong to him, a voice that compelled her to join him on the bed once again. She closed her eyes, trying to find some logic amongst this dog's breakfast. The money could do wonders for them and there was nothing wrong with protecting a friend's assets.

'Only a week?'

'And it will be gone. A man called Victor Drazen is picking it up.'

Nina sighed, defenceless. She'd always suspected Amador of being involved in darker activities than supplying underage kids with alcohol, and though Stephen constantly reassured her they were friends since childhood, since they lived in England, she sometimes wondered what "friends" actually meant to the man. This just proved it.

She wanted to ask him why they still had to pay Amador for the alcohol when they were the ones taking care of his stash but Nina knew nothing good ever came of questioning Stephen's methods. To do so would be a huge insult to him. Must be a trait he'd picked up from his late father, she surmised.

'What happened to Pink Lady?' came a voice Nina hadn't expected to hear. Not even troubling to mask her annoyance, Nina decided it was better to leave now. She didn't feel like fighting for Stephen's affection tonight.

* * *

The first thing she had noticed, apart from the rudely loud music and cluster of cars parked outside her house, was her most prized artefact abandoned on the floor amongst cans of half empty Bundaberg Rum like it was a piece of unimportant trash. The dark-haired woman resting her head on Steve's shoulder immediately sprung to attention when she heard the high-pitched voice and in two seconds flat she'd gone altogether. Steve followed her progress with his eyes until he made the connection, the inquiry finally registering. Bottomless hazel eyes met her own, 'Why did you come here?' Not the answer she'd been looking for but a starting point nonetheless. She saw his eyes flick to the baggage beside her and she hastened to say, 'It's not what you think.'

Pause. After a year, Jane was finding it hard to remember how you acted around your brother. He flashed her an unexpected smile. 'And what makes you think I don't want it to be?' he said, though she thought she detected some irony in his voice. He came over to her and ran one tentative hand through her hair as if he didn't trust what his eyes were telling him. 'What- Why aren't you with him?'

She shook her head, almost amused by the suggestion. 'He's on another business trip, doesn't know I'm here.'

'And he'll kill us both if he finds out.' No need to clarify; they both knew who "he" was. Jane chewed on her lip, something she always did when her stomach did gymnastics. One time in fourth grade, her teacher had said it made her look like a cow. She hoped she didn't look like a farm animal anymore. Hoped she was becoming the lady she knew her brother wanted her to be. 'And where's mum?'

'Aunt Lucy's,' he murmured absently, still absorbed in her feathery hair, the locks trailing through his fingers like 'It's nicer than the blonde...'

Jane fiddled with the back of one earring the way the chemist had taught her to prevent the holes from healing over, though it had been years since she'd had her ears pierced. Her fingers skimmed the smooth pearl, cool to touch against her burning skin. 'Steve, I- can I stay here for a while? Please don't say-'

'No.'

Even though it was expected, the refusal still hurt. Stifling tears, Jane found herself clutching at the sleeve of his jacket, the leather moulding gently into her palms. Looking up into his face – had he grown even more? – she said the only thing she could think of. 'Why not?' she asked, knowing it was unfair to put him in this position yet knowing he was the only person she could turn to. Memories of the boy who taught her to ride a bike would never vanish, nor the tangy explosion of juices from the strawberries they'd shared on their camping trip in the backyard. The voice that soothed her after a bad dream, the reluctant submission when she asked if she could stay with him, just for a little while, forcing him to sacrifice half his pillow and a good night's sleep. That was the brother she remembered. She knew that boy was still there, even if she hardly knew him anymore.

'You know why. Don't make me say it.' Of course she knew why: her father had bought out the jury. She belonged to him, now.

'Please. You can't just leave me with him. I'm- I'll cry!' Twelve-year-olds didn't cry but she was beyond caring. 'Please...' Clinging to him as if her very existence depended on it, on her knowing he was there, real. His stricken face was more than she could bare as an emotionless 'Don't' fell out of his mouth, warning her not to pursue the matter.

Lips pursed, Jane relinquished her hold and wiped away the beginnings of tears. 'Fine. But I'm staying for the party.'

Knowing full well that she planned on staying till way past her bedtime, Stephen nodded assent.

* * *

Jack lay on a plastic deckchair beside a matching table, gratefully swallowing smoke-free spring air. Watching the pool with false interest, he saw Kim's head resurface followed by slender arms that grabbed at an oddly immaculate skate shoe and pulled its owner in. A surprised cry, a watery splash, warm liquid rained down on Jack's form, bringing him back to the moment. He stretched then sat up languidly, finding himself graced with a first row seat of Chase's ensuing performance. The flowery gestures, knitted eyebrows, the anger in his voice, it all cracked too soon and he playfully dunked Kim under, chlorine filled water cutting off her surprised squeal. Amused by the scene, partygoers began placing mock bets on who would win the battle, cheering the pair on amidst the hoots and hollers. A few even decided to help the war effort, swimming over to join the fun.

'Jack! Help me!' Chase managed to gasp before being dragged under again. Jack shook his head laughingly, leant over to grab some chips from the table and went back to star gazing; the mist that had been shrouding the moon earlier had floated away, the satellite's crater-spotted face sent a silvery glow back down.

Suddenly, a whirling ball of something connected with his chest, making Jack inhale a salt and vinegar potato chip. It stuck in his throat; he tried to cough it up while an excited voice screamed gibberish at him, arms tightly around his midsection with a force that reminded him of a baby's firm grip on its pacifier.

'Jack! Oh my God, how are you? You won't believe what I've been up to. Dad's had me everywhere, New York, Mexico, Boston, San Francisco, overseas, Jack, I even went to England! _England!_ Jack? Jack, oh my God, are you okay?'

Mushed potato chip fell onto the pavement as Jack greedily drank in oxygen. He struggled for a few seconds before nodding, squinting at her, disorientated, before his eyes readjusted. Instantly recognising the face, he felt a small smile creep onto his features. 'Jane, what're you doing here!'

'Dad's letting me stay over for the weekend,' she dismissed the comment with a wave and settled herself beside him. 'So, what's happening in Boringville? Teri doing okay?'

Jack swallowed, not wanting to talk about it, not wanting to have to tell Jane about it while at the same time knowing he was the only person that could. The right person for the job. He met her eyes, that odd hue between green and brown like a mirage of autumn leaves, and watched her thin brow work themselves into a puzzled knot. 'You don't know...' he said softly.

A bump travelled down her neck, 'What?'

Jack couldn't watch her, didn't wish to see the pain her face would reflect, his own anguish. They all asked "What?" but they didn't really want to know, it was just a quest for knowledge, the typical human need to know and then the hate that followed the knowledge. But Jack knew. He knew that once he told her, she'd hate him, like so many others. Like his mother.

He sniffed and scratched his nose, something that had become a habit over the past year, and spoke to her shiny pink shoes. 'Last year, she was in a fight...'

The rest didn't need saying; Jane didn't need to know what he'd done to his father after that or what he'd done with Nina, his ruined friendships – he wondered if Saunders had told her. A sharp intake of breath; Jack pictured Jane's face, the distress and utter hopelessness he knew she felt. He watched the water dance across her shoes and next thing he knew, her arms were around him again and she was crying quietly, her shoulders jerking with each hiccoughed sob, he felt more moisture on his shirt. His sister's death had shattered everything for him, changed the world into a bleak and unforgiving place. What would it do to a girl who'd only just started high school, a girl who'd lost one parent to the other?

Some party.

They eventually broke apart, Jane apologising for his loss before retreating to bed. This time, Jack didn't have to wipe his eyes. He wondered what he was becoming.

Rubbing his hands together, he decided stale air was better than chilly gusts of wind and shuffled back indoors. In the corner of the room, the grandfather clock chimed twice, a noise that was barely discernible over the music and general racket that comes with placing fifty crazy teenagers and alcohol in the same room. He was just wondering how long Chase planned on staying when the man himself emerged from the bathroom minus wet clothes, fastening the buckle of a belt he must've borrowed. When he was within earshot, Jack called to him. 'Isn't it high time we left? Kim's probably passed out somewhere by now.'

'Yeah, I think she's had enough. We'll be out of here soon, just waiting for my clothes to dry.' Jack looked him up and down; Chase's face took on a pink tinge and he glared back defiantly. 'What?'

'Who the hell convinced you to wear _that_ thing?' Jack looked disapprovingly at the black turtleneck. The taller boy flapped his arms, the sleeves that drooped over his hands thrashing about like a fish's wild tail. 'What's wrong? You don't like?'

Jack rolled his eyes but discontinued the interrogation. Chase had his own reasons for the weird stuff he did, reasons Jack probably didn't want to know. Sometimes it was like the guy was two completely different people: the clowning, fun-loving dolt and the brooding, melancholy boy confused with himself. He'd sometimes confide in Jack, sharing secret fears that not even Kim knew about. Chase didn't like appearing weak but when he was with Jack it was unimportant. They'd been friends forever, so he was willing to put his pride aside. Jack enjoyed this, knowing that people still relied on him, sought out his advice even if it wasn't what they wanted to hear. It gave him something. And even if that wasn't a lot, Jack hadn't had much to begin with anyway.

In the background, the drier beeped and Chase hurriedly turned to retrieve his garments, glad to be away from Jack's scrutinising stare. The blonde patiently sat himself down as Kim sidled over, clothes dripping everywhere as she fell into the chair beside him. Her usually smooth hair was frizzy, reminding Jack of a dandelion. 'Still sober?' he said and nearly fell out of the chair when she replied with a 'Yes.' The girl grinned at his reaction then widened her mouth into an O as the urge to yawn overwhelmed her, making her eyes tear up. ''Scuse me!' she giggled, her wobbling voice telling him if she wasn't tabletop dancing drunk, she was at least tipsy.

Chase came from the bathroom again, this time in his own attire, and Kim wrapped her arms around him and whispered something. His face took on a puzzled look; Kim pointed beyond Jack and Chase craned his neck to get a proper view. When he saw what she was on about his face contorted into a look halfway between awe and revulsion.

'C'mon, she needs a ride,' Kim begged, her arms seeking out his waist, batting her eyes at him in a completely comical way. Chase rolled his own as he fixed the cuffs of his denim jacket and pretended to think. Applying one hand to his chin where he stroked an imaginary beard, Chase shared a questioning look with Jack, who shrugged indifference. Discovering no objection from his friend, Chase nodded affirmation. 'Fine. Just make sure she doesn't throw up in the car.' Despite the harshness of the words, he spoke in a non-threatening tone.

'Knew I could count on you!' Kim said, already trotting away like a kid whose mother, after baking a cake, has allowed her to lick the bowl clean. Chase sighed and stared at the ground, not wanting to face what Kim had gotten him into this time. A moment later, Kim reappeared, dragging a very drunk Kate behind her. 'We're good to go!' she announced as she removed her grip on the other girl. Not the smartest thing to do: Kate teetered and fell against Jack, whose eyes widened at the unanticipated contact. He hopelessly tried to steady her, the weight of her relaxed body proving too great and they both went sprawling into the chair.

'Um, a little help?'

Chase smirked, remembering the pool incident; Jack groaned, staring helplessly into the unconscious face of the girl he didn't know. 'You can always ask Nina for help,' Chase pointed out as the brunette walked past, paused, took one look at Jack's current position and continued on her way. Great, now Nina thought he was a player as well as a loser. Not that it mattered much; she'd made it clear she wasn't interested in him anymore. Had she ever been interested in the first place? Was that night they'd spent together just something she'd done to get back at Stephen, the worst kind of betrayal, or was there something else... Had she even been thinking with a clear head? Jack had asked himself these things a thousand times, there seemed to be an endless supply of motives. Jack watched her walk by, shaking her head; in anger or disbelief he didn't know.

He made another despairing sound and tried to tidy his hair before scooping Kate up, this time ready to bear the load. With great difficulty he staggered after his friends, not caring who saw him or what they thought. If the past year had done anything to Jack, it had freed him of all those inhibitions the "cool" kids were subject to: as he couldn't possibly sink any lower on the social ladder, Jack just didn't care anymore. The realisation didn't shock him. At the beginning of the night, he felt he may revert back to his old life but now he knew it'd never happen. Anyway, if he _was_ given the opportunity, would he choose to accept it? He wasn't sure.

When they reached the car, Jack half-pushed the new girl into the back and took his place beside her. As the engine revved up again, Jack leaned his head on the window and studied the blinking light of an aeroplane until the window ran out of sky.

'Do you know where she lives?' Chase shoved the gearstick into first, ignoring the awful grinding sounds of protesting metal that would make even the toughest man cringe. Kim scratched her arm and readjusted the strap of her dress, 'Ummm...' She began filing through Kate's purse while her boyfriend's fingers tapped on the wheel, beating out their own private melody. Jack tried to block it out.

'Just drop her off at my place,' Kim gave up her search and stuffed the wallet back into the bag.

'Did you try her cell?'

'She doesn't even have one.'

The drumming ceased; Chase had reaffirmed his grip on the steering wheel. He shrugged. 'Just don't blame me when your parents go psycho,' he said, the warning not in his voice making Kim avert her eyes.

'She does,' Jack heard himself say, even though he'd thought he wasn't paying attention to the conversation; he was sure he'd seen her using it sometime earlier. He looked over at her, slumped in her seat but now conscious, sunshine hair falling over her face, shielding her from the world. 'Where's your phone?' he asked, wondering if she could comprehend his words. Kate mumbled and gestured in the vague direction of anywhere in Los Angeles.

'My place it is then,' Kim said, and they were off. Jack sighed, suddenly disappointed that the night had come to a close. He had to admit that for all its crappiness, it'd sure been better than sitting at home.


	5. Of Soccer Balls and Fairy Floss

**Title: **And Now for Something Completely Different...

**Author: **Aqua Phoenix1

**Disclaimer:** _24_ and any people or places affiliated with it are not property of the author i.e. me. Unfortunately.

**Rating: **PG-13 (liable to skyrocket in coming chapters)

**A/N: **Yes, I am back, but probably not for too long. Too much work on my plate at the moment, not to mention Christmas coming up and all the planning and preparation that goes with it. However, if anyone is still reading this I'd like to thankyou for your ongoing support and wish you all a very merry Christmas, just in case I don't get another chapter up before then. Hope you all get what you wished for!

Just a word of warning about the story: the rating will likely go up to R in not-so-distant chapters. So if you can't find _And Now for Something Completely Different_ displayed on your screen, that's probably the reason. While I haven't exactly sketched out the entire plot in my head, I have a good idea of what's to come... Things are going to get more violent around here. But this chapter's nothing heavy, just Jack's typical weekend, so there's nothing to be scared of yet.

As always, on with the show...!

* * *

Too short to play basketball, lacking the bulk of a footballer and being uninterested in everything in between, Jack had never been a real sportsman. That was, with the exception of soccer.

Soccer was something Jack excelled at, something he never would've picked as "the sport he was created for," as Chase oh-so-sincerely assured him. The first time he'd had a crack at it, sure, he hadn't been the greatest, but then again who really nailed something on their first try? What he had been was the top dog during that PE lesson, playing ten times better than the rest of his class, perhaps not a medal worthy achievement but an achievement nonetheless. His skill with the soccer ball surprised Jack especially, the ease with which he weaved it through his legs, up over his head, in for a goal (though these were rare, even by soccer standards.) And his dogged courage, never truly acknowledged until that one game, was easily his best asset. Knowing that he might not be fast or strong enough to steal the ball but going in headfirst anyway. "No guts, no glory" had become his private motto, and he replayed it in his head like a mantra.

Of course, that sometimes meant shutting up and taking what the world dealt you like a man.

Another good thing about soccer: it was an excuse to remove himself from the confines of his house. While Jack loved his overworked mother deeply, he preferred to stay out of his stepfather's way. What had began as normal dubiousness at the thought of a new authority figure in his life had turned into a dislike brought on over the past year during which the man had become an alcoholic, a fact that was stubbornly denied by both parenting parties. True, Martin cared about him – at least Jack's life wasn't completely one big cliché – but when they had lost Teri the bottle became the man's only refuge. And when he was drunk, it was far less than an un-pretty sight.

Ever since Teri had gone, things had gotten worse; one of the hardest things to deal with that Teri's death brought with it was Jack's punishment for being a good brother. Forsaking the majority of his exams in favour of waiting at his baby sister's bedside had cost him dearly – a whole year's worth of schooling – but if anything he reasoned he should be grateful to Palmer, who had pulled a few strings to get him re-enrolled, allowing him to repeat the course, something that many teachers had disagreed with. To make matters worse, because Jack was under severe trauma at the time, any evidence of naughty behaviour was automatically attributed to him: graffiti, messing up people's lockers and such. While Jack mightn't have been the most emotionally stable at the time, he wasn't stupid enough to unleash his rage on unsuspecting kiddies.

Remembering delivering the news to Jane the night before made Jack feel insanely guilty: the younger Saunders was still a child herself and it seemed unfair to lay that burden on her, a bright and promising girl. Though she would've found out sooner or later; as Teri's friend she had every right to know. Which brought up another question: why hadn't she heard the news, being as close to Teri as she had been? More than likely, Stephen hadn't wanted her to know and certainly hadn't been expecting her back in Los Angeles any time soon. At least Jack had half-protected her from the truth... Details weren't necessary during that initial period of grief. All you can do is deny that it ever happened, denial which eventually turns to anger et cetera, et cetera. That is, according to Dr Chappelle – and in Jack's opinion that didn't account for much.

The smack of the soccer ball colliding with his stomach was enough to bring Jack back to the moment. He fell to the ground with a small grunt, the unanticipated force behind the shot coupled with his surprise enough to topple the usually steady on his feet teen. Massaging his abdomen as a shrill whistle cut the air, Jack studied the ball until Chase's feet made their way into his field of vision. The shaved-headed one looked down at him, his usual silly grin replaced by a tight grimace. 'What's up with you today? That's the third shot you've missed,' the lack of mockery in Chase's voice told Jack that he must've been daydreaming again.

The blonde shrugged off the comment, not sure how one responded to that kind of criticism and sat picking at the weedy tickling his fingers; the other flipped the ball up with one foot and adeptly caught it with both hands. Chase rolled his eyes at his friend's lack of enthusiasm, all pretence of concern dissolving as quickly as it had arrived and lightly kicked the sandy haired Jack. 'C'mon! Coach'll make us do laps if you don't pull yourself together,' he called over his shoulder as he jogged back to midfield.

That got Jack moving again. He sprung to his feet, ignoring the headache he was enduring courtesy of his late night out along with his affiliation with Jack Daniels. If there was one good thing about having no social life, it was the distinct lack of hangovers that came with it. Maybe he just needed to do this sort of thing more, build up his immunity system against all that crap. Jack wondered where that thought had come from, then attributed it to spending too much time around Kim, the eternal dumb blonde. "Dumb" in the nicest sense, mind.

With a sigh, Jack took up his new position in the goalie's square, shifting into his ready-to-block stance. He didn't know why Coach Baker had allocated him the position of keeper today; Jack was a wingman, an attacker, and he wasn't very good with his hands. Maybe he just expected him to stand there and get pummelled, undoubtedly his field of expertise. Jack smirked at the irony.

Roy was sprinting upfield; a quick pass from Chase and the ball was then in the redhead's possession. Roy expertly eluded a sliding tackle from Ben, faked a pass back to Chase and instead belted the soccer ball at goal. This time, Jack was ready for it: flinging his body to the left, he used his entire length to stifle the attempt. The black and white blur ricocheted off his shin and as he fell to the ground once again, Jack hugged it to himself, preventing any further shots.

The whistle rang again and Coach Baker's voice rang out over the oval, 'That's enough for today. Remember, first game of the season's next Saturday. I expect everyone to show up.' Forget wishes of good luck or words of encouragement. Baker meant business. Though he was nice enough if you spoke with him one-on-one, in a group situation where he had to maintain his authority, Baker could be downright ruthless if he had to.

Jack smoothed back his untidy hair and rolled over, utterly spent. Baker had been hammering them since God knows when... He must be really determined this year, Jack frowned.

'Hey, Jack.'

Jack's eyes widened at the sound of the familiar gentle voice. Peering up into clear blue eyes, eyes that were more azure than his own sea-blue ones, he suddenly felt very foolish, becoming all too aware of how ridiculous he must look. He hurriedly shuffled into a sitting position and smiled in greeting, forgetting how tired he was.

'What brings you out this early? After last night I thought you'd be needing a sleep in.' The seventeen-year-old found himself grinning at Kate, who mirrored his expression as she sank down beside him. Finding the soccer ball she began to roll it back and forth nonchalantly as she spoke. 'I'm fine, really. I still don't know how it happened. One minute I was talking with Nina, the next I was on the floor.' Kate seemed genuinely embarrassed about the incident; Jack wondered at her innocence.

'Not a party girl?'

The New Yorker's smile turned sheepish, 'Am I that transparent?' A sudden gust of wind sent golden tresses flying, carrying her laughter away. Batting her hair from her eyes, Kate said, 'Kim was really nice about it... Which reminds me... thanks.'

'Thanks?' If he'd done anything thanks-worthy lately, Jack sure didn't know about it. He turned to face her, waiting patiently for the explanation that wasn't being supplied and soon found himself scanning her face and neck for the blemishes, those small imperfections, that make us individuals. Finding none only caused him to look harder – a habit Jack had developed through the past year when he hadn't been speaking all that much. The object of his studying didn't seem to notice or if she did, she didn't care. 'Kim also told me that you were looking out for me last night...'

Now Jack discovered _she_ was searching _his _face. As their eyes met Jack felt an unexpected heat rise in his cheeks, making him quickly avert his gaze. 'Well...' he fumbled for an appropriate response. She had, after all, practically declared him as her proverbial knight in shining armour... definitely a first. It was a strange thing to be questioning someone's good nature, though. Jack himself, he did it because of his upbringing but Kate seemed to have a better than good life. She was probably just curious.

'It's what any decent human being would've done, right?' He ventured another look, trying to gauge her reaction, secretly hoping he'd given a favourable reply.

Kate smiled again, perfectly white teeth gleaming through her parted pink lips, 'Well, I'm glad I have a decent human being watching my back.'

There was a moment of silence, but it was companionable, nothing like the awkwardness there had been between Jack and Nina... their entire relationship had been akin to tiptoeing through a minefield. This was something completely different; while they barely knew one another, Jack felt free to express anything he wished to this new girl.

'And I also wanted to apologize.'

Now _that_ was entirely unexpected. What did Kate have to be sorry for?

'I saw you after school. You and Hector. And I know that whatever's going on between you guys is none of my business but I should've don't something. I'm sorry, Jack.'

Jack couldn't help but stare. She'd known? She knew he was hated?

She was still talking to him?

...She was asking him to forgive her.

Kate must've taken his silence for wordless fury because her eyes began to tear up a bit, though she tried hard not to show it, to banish them. For her own benefit, Jack pretended he hadn't noticed and instead answered coolly, 'It doesn't matter. You would've only wound up hurt. But thanks for the offer.' That last part was accompanied by Jack resting his hand atop hers in what he hoped was a platonic manner. Kate blinked, surprised at his acceptance (had she been expecting rejection?), happy that she hadn't destroyed this newborn friendship.

Jack gently pulled away and rose to his feet. He'd been lucky this time but sooner or later she'd come to her senses and leave him, just like everyone else with half a brain (Chase, he though with a smirk, didn't count.) Jack knew it was best to keep out of these things, better to avoid placing yourself in situations where you can get hurt. But still, that part in all humans remained, the part that longed to be important, to be needed. Kate had needed him and even if she hadn't reciprocated his gallant rescue at least she had bothered to apologize for it. That was why he decided to play things out, to keep going the way fate was leading him: because while she mightn't have done the right thing for Jack, she had acknowledged her fault and, more importantly, had the same desire to be necessary as he did. Why else would she pick him as a friend? She chose Jack in hopes of narrowing her chances of being unaccepted.

'See you on Monday?' He didn't know why it sounded like a question; of course she'd be at school. Just his insecurities interfering again.

Kate also stood up, dusting off her jeans whilst the soccer ball was firmly tucked beneath her arm. 'Sure thing,' she passed the ball to him. Jack blinked once as he felt the object slap against him before realising he had caught it. For a time he stared at it, bewildered.

The blonde girl took her leave, pausing halfway across the oval to wave her goodbye. Jack parroted her gesture before setting off down his own path, on his way home, turning the ball over in his hands as Kate had done. The sun beat down its cheery warmth, doing little to melt Jack's self-constructed icy exterior, which Kate had dutifully begun chipping away at. The realisation was more liberating than Jack had thought it would be, knowing that he could still respond to female contact and wasn't some asexual zombie. You were supposed to get all uncomfortable and trip over your own words, right? Jack laughed softly to himself.

Kate had some courage to admit her mistakes to a kid from the wrong side of the tracks, a guy she had known for a maximum of three hours. Was she faking it, setting him up for some humiliating fall or was that simply the way she was? And why was he so drawn to her, like a tiny planet being tugged towards the sun only to end up helplessly spiralling round the bright orb? Maybe he was just desperate for contact with a fellow _Homo sapien_, and upon seeing his chance had sprung on the blissfully ignorant newcomer in hopes of recruiting her to his own selfish wants. The social outcast who pretends to be cool, the tough guy who slams on the mask in order to lure in an unsuspecting victim... Was that why he was more open with Kate Warner than was characteristic?

God, he hoped not. Hoped that he wasn't using her. Kate deserved better than that.

Besides, he hadn't been pretending anything with her: he'd proclaimed outright what society had labelled him, told her what it would mean if she hung out with him. And did Kate care? No, she was true to herself, doing what she felt was right, even offering kind words when they weren't requested. If only everyone was like that... Jack sighed sadly. The world would chew up that goodness and spit it out. Poor, deluded girl. Maybe he should be the first to let her down because he would do it gently, make her more careful yet guard her spirit. Yes, he could hurt her in a nice way. It was for her own good, after all.

He trudged across the road, feeling the first specks of a sun shower. Birds twittered noisily in the elms lining the empty street, revelling in the odd combination of warm and cool. Jack tilted his face upwards, enjoying the feel of tiny pricks against his flushed face as the rain sprinkled down. Wispy white clouds floated lazily across the boundless sky. As those clouds began to look more and more like fairy floss, Jack decided he'd better grab something to eat – his tummy agreed, egging him on with an embarrassingly loud grumble. Quickening his pace, the sandy-headed one turned down a side alley, a shortcut to a milkbar, all the while wondering what the rapidly approaching Monday would bring with it.


End file.
